


from now on your troubles will be miles away

by jonahsimms



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, Fluff and Angst, post tps1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 05:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13117389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonahsimms/pseuds/jonahsimms
Summary: He’s here. He’s with her. And there’s not impending death or gloom looming over their heads. Not the dread that they would have to say goodbye again.For now, that is enough.He is enough.xxFrank and Karen spend Christmas together. set post tps1.





	from now on your troubles will be miles away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starsdust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsdust/gifts).



> I finished a fic! and on time before Christmas! 
> 
> I'm really proud of this piece so I hope you guys all enjoy it!! 
> 
> huge shout outs to [Elisa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starsdust) for being my rock while writing this fic and encouraging me and letting me bounce ideas off of her, and [Caitlin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alsoalsowik) for looking over this for me!!
> 
> title is from/I listened to _I'll Be Home for Christmas_ (the Michael Buble version) while writing most of this, so if you need something to listen to xx. 
> 
> please enjoy and have a great Christmas if you celebrate xx

Christmas is hard for Karen. 

She doesn’t try to deny that. It’s hard, has been since the same cruel year her brother had been ripped from her life.

Distant memories give her a warm sense of happiness briefly. Memories of laughing with him on Christmas morning, ignoring their parents complaints about the busy and demanding holiday together as they rolled their eyes and drank hot chocolate. Memories that are so far off they don’t stay with her long.

So, yes. Christmas is hard for her. Karen knows this year won’t be any different.

In fact, she thinks it might be the hardest she’s had in years.

She has no one. Her brother is gone. Matt is gone. She hasn’t talked to Foggy in months.

She distantly thought of Frank and the last time she had seen him. He could be dead for all she knew. Another person in her life dead. A never ending list of heartbreak and loss.

It was getting late. The sun had set a couple hours ago already, leaving the city lit up in Christmas lights. There was even a light dusting of snow clinging to the normally-busy streets and sidewalks, to top of the Christmas feel.

Ellison had told her to go home hours ago, but the thought of being in her lonely, cramped apartment on Christmas Eve wasn’t her favorite idea.

Maybe her echoing heartache was good. It gave her the opportunity to start an article that she didn't even have to turn in for another week.

The only sound in her office was the click of the keyboard and the faint sound of the buzzing city outside her window. Quieter than usual, as she predicted the whole city was indoors with their families. Celebrating.

It wasn’t until her eyes were burning from her bright computer screen that she decided, maybe, it was time to head home.

She checked the clock: 8 pm. There was barely anyone left on the streets as she pulls her coat tighter around herself and walks home. She’s not in the mood to catch a cab, and the cold wind whipping at her face is almost refreshing as she tries to block out any thoughts that enter her mind. All she thinks about is getting home, turning the heat on, and drinking. The whole night.

She’s so caught up in trying to ignore everything around her that by the time she reaches her apartment building and gets to her floor, she doesn’t notice someone waiting outside her door, until they clear their throat. 

She whips around, reaches for the gun in her purse, instinctively, in a matter of seconds. 

“Woah, woah, woah.” Her visitor puts her hands his hands up and steps back. “It’s just me.”

Karen lowers her gun slowly, her heart racing and her breath unsteady.  

She just pulled her gun out on Frank Castle. Again. 

He smiles sheepishly at her. Nods at her apartment. “Mind If I come in?” 

***** 

It’s cold inside her apartment and she turns the heat on as she enters. She shrugs of her coat, kicks off her shoes. Distantly, she’s aware she may be acting a little too comfortable around him. 

“You, uh, want something to drink?” she asks. That’s not what she really wants to ask, though—A thousand other questions flood her head. 

_Where have you been? You’re alive. Why didn’t you reach out to me sooner? It’s good to see you. I’m so glad you’re alive._

She doesn’t say any of this. She finds herself turning to the fridge and opening it, hands him a beer before opening hers. She avoids his eyes as she takes a long sip.

He doesn’t drink his. He’s watching her. She feels his eyes boring into her back but refuses to turn around meet eye contact. 

She takes a deep breath and turns. Faces him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Karen cuts him off quickly. “What are you doing here?”

It comes off a little cold, and he flinches. A part of her feels bad, but the bigger part of her, the _angry and worried part,_ takes a little satisfaction in it. 

“Karen, I should have called. Earlier.” 

“Yeah, you’re damn right you should have called,” she snaps. 

“You’re angry,” he observes quietly.

“Jesus Christ, Frank!” She shakes her head. “Of course I’m mad. I thought you were dead. I was worried. I was terrified.” She doesn't realize she’s crying until she feels her cheeks are wet. Fuck.

She instantly hates herself for letting him get to her. Again. Like he always does. Always has.  

Frank sets his untouched drink down, then steps into her space. His hands are on her face, and he brushes her tear streaked face with his thumb, softly, and tilting her head up to make her look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He’s so close she can feel his warm breath on her face. “I should have let you know I was alive, safe, at least.” 

She doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look away from her eyes, and she remembers the last time they were this close. In the elevator, before she had pushed him away, thinking she would never see him again.

And now here he is, in her apartment, breathing the same air as her, her face in his hands, his thumb still absent mindedly brushing along her cheekbone. 

“I needed time,” he says after a beat. “I needed time to find myself. To figure out my place in...everything.”  
  
She nods. Closes her eyes and finally leans into his touch. “Did you find it?”

“Maybe,” he says softly. “I need more time. I may need the rest of my life, Karen.”  
  
She opens her eyes again, looks at him. His eyes are soft and glassy.

“Take all the time you need,” she says softly. “Just...don’t do that to me again.”

His hands drop from her face and he pulls her into his arms. Tight. Without her shoes he’s got a bit of height on her, and she tucks herself into his arms. When she tilts her head up to look at him again, he presses a kiss to her forehead and she closes her eyes. 

It’s the best she’s felt in a month, and she wants to stay like this forever. 

He pulls away after a few seconds though, and suddenly she feels shy again. She picks up her beer again, takes a swig.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” Frank blurts out. 

“What?”   
  
“You asked why I was here. I didn’t want to be alone, Karen. Not on Christmas. And I didn’t want you to be alone either.”

Her throat clogs up. She can’t form words, so she nods instead. 

“I owe you an explanation,” he goes on. “About everything...everyone.”   
  
“David Lieberman?” she asks. “Billy Russo. Dinah Madani.”

Frank gives her a half smile. “You read the papers, huh?”   
  
“I write for the papers, Frank. Of course I read it. I knew you were involved when I read the names.”  
  
“It’s a long story,” Frank cuts her off. Then he adds. “It’s Christmas...It’s...I’ll tell you everything, I promise. Just not tonight.”  
  
His eyes are desperate and pleading so she nods again. “Not tonight.”

xxxxx 

“I don’t...exactly have anything to eat.” she tells him.

Frank takes his coat off, and the heat kicks in. It was a little more cozy in her tiny apartment now. 

“Hey, it’s fine,” he tells her. “I kinda intruded you last minute on Christmas Eve.”

_I’m glad you did,_ she thinks.

Karen spends time rummaging through her cabinets and fridge and comes up empty. She frowns but Frank is already grabbing her phone off the counter. 

“I know a pizza place that delivers every day of the year,” he tells her softly. “If you don’t mind pizza on Christmas.”   
  
“Pizza sounds great,” Karen says. “It was more than I was planning to have.”

While Frank is on the phone ordering their food, Karen manages to find a nice bottle of wine unopened. She remembers Foggy giving it to her on her birthday the year before, but the memory causes a flash of longing and pain, and she pushes it away as well. 

“Don’t know what kind you prefer,” she tells Frank as she hands him the glass and he hangs up the phone. 

“I’m open to anything,” he says with a half smile. 

They sit in silence for a bit, but it’s not uncomfortable. 

Karen can’t believe he’s really there. In front of her. Alive and safe. Unbruised. Looking like he hadn’t taken a beaten or any bullets in a good while. 

She feels urge to touch him again, and she clenches her fist at her side to stop from leaning forward and brushing her hands on his face the same way he’d done to her. 

She wonders what’s different. What’s changed. She wants to ask him, wants to demand the full story now. 

His words echo in his head though. _I’ll tell you everything I promise._

He’s here. He’s with her. And there’s not impending death or gloom looming over their heads. Not the dread that they would have to say goodbye again. 

For now, that is enough. 

He is enough. 

xxxxxxx 

By the time the pizza gets there, Karen’s drank enough wine that there's a warm pleasant feeling buzzing through her. 

Frank gets the door and pays the delivery boy. 

“This is the best pizza within ten blocks,” he assures her. 

He’s not wrong. 

“How did you manage to discover a pizza place that delivers on Christmas Eve this late?” Karen asks over her third slice. 

“Burned the Christmas ham one year.” Frank chuckles. “It was my fault. Maria was pissed, told me to leave the house and not come back until I found something for us to eat.” 

Frank is smiling fondly at the memory and Karen can’t help but smile too. 

“Though she was gonna wring my neck when I came back with pizza. But not after she tried it. The kids asked if we could do this every Christmas from now on.” 

He finishes the story and goes quiet but there’s a small smile on his face still. 

If Christmas is hard for her, she can’t even _begin_ to imagine what it’s like for Frank. 

“My brother and I used to get each other the most bizarre gifts for Christmas,” Karen tells Frank, and he looks up at her. 

“It started as a joke one year, but it made our parents angry so we kept doing it.” She grins.

“Your brother…?” Frank asks.

Karen blinks, avoids looking at him. “He’s dead.” 

She doesn’t say anything else and Frank doesn’t push. She’s grateful for it. One day, she’ll share her whole her sorry too. But not today. Not on Christmas.  

They finish eating and when Frank volunteers to do the dishes after. 

“Such a gentleman,” she teases, and Frank snorts and shakes his head. 

It’s not till then she realizes she’s still wearing her work clothes, and would much rather be in something more comfortable. 

“I’m going to go change,” she tells Frank. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

She doesn’t realize she’s said it until after the words left her mouth, and she realizes she sounded desperate and begging. Actually afraid he was going to leave her and she’d be alone again on Christmas. 

She blushes, but if Frank noticed the desperation in her voice, he doesn’t hint at it. “I’ll be right here.” 

In her room she strips off her clothes and pulls on jeans and a comfortable sweater, also pulling on warm socks. She also takes the time to wipe off her makeup. 

When she returns to the kitchen, Frank had made hot chocolate. 

“I uh…” He hands her one of the mugs and shrugs. “I was told I make good hot chocolate. Thought maybe you’d want some.”

He looks a little embarrassed, but Karen takes the mug from him and sips. _Delicious_

“Whoever told you that was right. I didn’t realize you had so many skills.” 

Frank rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his own drink, but Karen sees him smiling into the cup. 

To an outsider, The Punisher making hot cocoa and smiling might seem like a wild, bizarre concept. Maybe it would be to the Karen that met Frank Castle a year ago, when he’d just lost his family. When he was broken and lost and terrified. But not now. 

He’s still broken. Still lost and terrified. But he’s gentle and soft. And there’s something different about him. Something she likes. 

Something that makes Karen suddenly, terribly realize that she never wants him to leave her again. 

xxxxx

They end up on her couch, where she turns the tv on. Christmas movies play, but neither of them pay much attention. They talk a bit, but it’s nothing serious, nothing really memorable. They’re enjoying each other's company more than anything. 

Two lonely human beings, fighting to not be alone. 

Outside the snow falls even harder than before. She can barely see the city in the whirl of white. 

“One year,” Frank tells her, his voice soft as he watches the snow fall steadily, same as her, “I was coming home from a tour in Afghanistan. Junior was just a baby, but Lisa was so excited. I promised her I’d be home for Christmas. I promised.”

He stops for a second, and Karen waits patiently for him to continue. He does, after a long moment. 

“The snow was so bad my connecting flight wouldn’t take off. Ended up spending Christmas in an airport. Ate shitty airport food. I got into the city two days later.” He shakes his head. “I thought Lisa would hate me. She’d be so mad at me. But as soon as she saw me. She was so happy. Wouldn’t let go of me.” 

Karen smiles, thinking about a tiny Lisa hugging her father. Thinking about Frank with his family at Christmas. 

“All that mattered,” Frank continues, “Was that I was there, in the end. That we had each other.”

He drifts off, his attention returning to the snow outside. 

“I still miss them. Every day. I still dream about Maria all the time. But there’s not so many nightmares anymore. I feel like I can remember them better now, Karen. I can talk about them, the good times, and remember it.” 

“That’s so great, Frank,” Karen tells him, her voice so soft. “That’s _so_ great.” 

He turns to face her again, takes her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. 

“I’m glad I’m not alone this year,” he tells her. “I’m so glad I’m here.”  
  
Her throat gets clogged up, and she can’t seem to get many words out. But she nods. “Me too.”

xxxxxxx

She falls asleep in Frank’s  arms.

She didn’t plan it. She had planned on offering him the couch for the night.

She had told him to spend the night because the storm outside had gotten worse, and the next thing she knows, they’re both asleep on her couch, his arms wrapped tightly and protectively around her. 

She sleeps better than she has in months. Doesn't wake up with nightmares about Matt or her brother, or Frank dying. 

She does wake up alone though. She can’t help but feel hurt by that—hoping maybe he’d stick around. Just this once. 

There’s a crick in her neck and her body feels stiff. She gets up and starts the coffee pot. Her and Frank’s empty mugs are still on the counter. She frowns. 

Then there’s a knock on her door. 

When she opens it, Frank is standing at her door again. And he’s holding flowers. 

“Frank,” she says in surprise. “I thought you…?”   
  
“I told you I wasn’t leaving,” he cuts her off mid sentence. “I just had to run a quick errand.”

He hands her the flowers. Poinsettias. “A thank you. For letting me in. Even after...everything.” 

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” she tells him. “I’m bad at saying no to you.” 

He laughs. “I’m grateful for that.”   
  
“Thank you, Frank,” she smiles at the bright flowers. “They’re gorgeous.”

She finds a vase, fills it with water and puts them in. She remembers the last time he’d been in her apartment and had also brought her flowers. Maybe flowers are their thing. She doesn’t hate it. 

Frank is standing behind her when she turns around, and this time she doesn’t hesitate, she steps into his space and wraps his arms around him. He doesn’t hesitate either, wrapping her into his embrace, presses his nose into her hair. 

The hug lasts longer this time. She can hear Christmas music playing softly from her neighbors apartment, and as her and Frank sway slowly, almost as if they’re dancing to it. 

“Merry Christmas, Karen.” Frank tells her, his embrace tightening a little. 

It’s not perfect, nothing is. But it’s the best Christmas she’s had in years. It’s close enough.

“Merry Christmas, Frank.” 


End file.
